


This Is For All That You Put Me Through, You Piece Of Shit

by IRLKankriVantas13



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Flashbacks, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Touch-Averse Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Violence, alastor's dad is a jerk, honestly fuck alastor's dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IRLKankriVantas13/pseuds/IRLKankriVantas13
Summary: Alastor dies and the next time he opens his eyes, he's in a Library, but he couldn't tell you why. Until finally, he ends up in Hell and who's the first person who bothers him? Someone he'd really rather not have any interaction with, nor did he think he'd see them again.Alastor meeting his father in Hell plus Alastor's judgment and how he got his power.This story is going to have some description of violence since Al is Al.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 101





	1. The Library

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the setup for how Alastor gets sent to Hell.  
> I've also never written and published a Hazbi Hotel fic before, but I hope you like it!

If you wanted to know what dog teeth felt like sinking into your skin and tearing the flesh from bones and then the bones from their sockets till you were cold and dead on the floor, fresh crimson on the floor around you and in your throat having drowned you in it… Alastor could tell you.  
That was… something he could do without ever reliving, though he got the feeling, as he lied there, his brunette curls soaking up the red around him, that he wouldn’t get the chance to. The radio host -and mass murderer and cannibal- of New Orleans, was going to die here. Which was a shame. There was a lot that he had still wanted to do. Like, see his mother again. Though, he had always had the feeling that the day she left the house to go into town was the day she died. He had heard a gunshot from the woods they lived in right after she left and he never saw her again. Still, he liked to believe she was still out there.  
What a thing to think about while dying.

It was odd; the next time he opened his eyes. He was in a library. It seemed normal enough, despite the books fluttering around the room, placing themselves on their proper shelves. He didn’t think books did that, but it still… felt correct, if that made any sense.  
“Alastor Simmon. Welcome to the Library. Can I help you find anything today?” came a voice.  
The radio host jumped and spun on his heel. A librarian stood behind him, though it was odd, he couldn’t tell whether they were male or female.  
“Oh, me? Non non, mais merci beaucoup,” Alastor thanked.  
“See me if you need anything,”  
The brunette nodded politely and turned back to face the room that only seemed to get larger when he turned back around. Surely that back row of books hadn’t been there before.  
That librarian gave him chills, though he refused to show it and kept his smile on his face, how he normally would. The librarian was short, had short brown hair, had a feminine face structure, glasses, wore a red vest over a white shirt and-  
Hold on.  
Alastor spun around to look at the librarian but he was only greeted by the stretch of the library. There was no end in that direction it seemed but on the other side of him, there was. That could mean two things, the front or the back. It had to be, given that the sides were clearly visible to him. It was like the library was one long hallway.  
He then carefully headed towards the end of the building, for there was a wall there and he could certainly see it, though it was dark. It almost had to be the back on the building, but he wanted to see what was back there anyway.  
He would have loved to see the back if he weren’t greeted with damning sounds. Dogs.  
He then turned on his heel and began speedwalking back toward where he’d seen the librarian.  
“Once upon a time, there was a boy.” The librarian. Where was he? The dogs were getting louder. He began to walk faster.   
“His mother loved him with all of her heart, but his father loved him with all of his body.”  
Bark.  
Bark.  
Alastor dared a glance back and began to run.  
“One day, the mother went out to the city, but the bullet found her before the city.”  
“Shut up,” Alastor snarled, “Where are you?” he yelled.  
“And the boy never saw her again.”  
“Get out here and show yourself! Get the dogs away from me!”  
“The father had no more wife to use. But he did have a son and a basement.”  
Alastor had to stop listening, for it would only distract him. The dogs had jumped into a sprint now.  
“And so, the son was locked away and fed nothing but the occasional rat, occasionally, if he was good, a grape.”  
Alastor didn’t like to think about eating rats, but as if on cue, his stomach grumbled and he slowed in his run and began to stumble. He could hear the claws on the marble floor.  
Then, there was a book. Just a singular book, the cover being red and black and he took a harsh spill onto the floor hitting it without any mercy.  
And then the dogs were gone.  
“And so, when his father came downstairs, the boy killed him, devouring his father out of immense hunger. From there,” the librarian stood right at his head now and Alastor looked up from his spot on the ground, “He continued to murder and eat other people because of his new addiction,”   
“But at this point, it’s already been engraved in my personality,”  
“It is.”  
Alastor gritted his teeth and stumbled to his feet, “I’m dead. I know that, so this must be where they judge who goes to Heaven and who goes to Hell,”  
“That is correct.”  
The radio host smiled and stumbled toward the librarian. The Library had shrunk again and just past the librarian, there was the exit, “And I’m going to Hell, right?”  
“That is correct.”  
“So, if that’s the case…” Alastor stumbled closer and braced a hand on the judge’s shoulder to hold himself up. He leaned on him and placed his forehead on the judge’s shoulder, to which he was given no response.  
Then, he sank his teeth into its shoulder and it finally reacted, hitting at him. But it was too late, Alastor had already taken a sizable bite out of his shoulder.  
The judge gritted its teeth and the exit opened, showing a dark night sky with what looked like city lights gleaming up at the stars.  
Alastor grinned, letting the crimson drip down his chin before he licked it back up and swallowed it, “Oh come on, don’t tell me that you can’t handle a little human!” he let out a laugh.

But then… before he knew it… he was falling. Down down down he went. The wind rushed by his ears and he felt like he was going to go deaf. Something happened then. A splitting pain in his head, feet, back, everywhere.  
He only knew why after he landed, knocking the wind out of him. He shouldn’t have survived a fall like that, but…   
Alastor stood on shaky hooves.  
Looking down, his eyes widened and the dials in them lit up. He stumbled back and looked up towards where he had fallen from, continuing to back up. Before his head even hit the building behind him, his ears did, plus antlers.   
Then the realization hit him. He was a radio host, a cannibal and a hunter. Hesitantly reaching behind him, he lightly brushed his claws fingers through the fur of his tail. He was… a deer… person.  
He was in Hell. He had to be. That was where that door led and the judge had pushed him in after he’d eaten part of his shoulder. Delightful.  
Alastor cautiously stepped out from the alley he was in, straightening his vest and began to walk. The tavern here would do, for now, he’d just have to get a room.  
Heading in, he took a look around. A bunch of drunkards, of course. What else should he expect? So, he started towards the counter to get a room, needing to get away from this idiocy, when he heard someone shout.  
“Heyyy, cutie! I’ve never seen ya before…”   
Of course. Welcome to Hell, Al… he thought to himself.  
Then the voice purred directly in his ear, “You can stay in my room tonight with little to no charge… Just a favor…”  
“Unfortunately, I won’t be giving you any favors, my dear,” he answered, smoothly.  
“Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who turned me down, not in my years here. My wife used to turn me down ya know… I killed her. Don’t make me do the same to you, boy.”  
Alastor tensed as he finally realized where he recognized the voice from.  
Hell was already not going well for him.


	2. Hands Off the Merchandise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor has to deal with his father’s actions... again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alastor does NOT consent to anything in this chapter. His dad is taking what he wants. So if thats something you’d rather not read, skip over this chapter.

“I apologize, my dear, but I rather seriously doubt that you could kill me,” was all Alastor said in return. Unbeknownst to him, he could flick his ears like a real deer could. How funny that he became a deer.  
His ear whacked his father in the face as he tried to get rid of him. The terrible stench of alcohol reeked, too close to his face for comfort.  
“There’s only one thing standin’ betwix me and a good night’s worth o’ fun, and that, my boy, is your pride,” his father purred, taking a hold on his ear roughly, to which that got some snickers and laughs from his father’s new lackies.  
“Let go of that,” Alastor snarled as the horrible feeling of claustrophobia intensified, “Don’t touch,” the deer tried to step on his father’s foot, going for the bridge with his hoof.  
“Ah ah-” he father cooed, moving his foot out of the way as Alastor gasped from a sharp, sudden pain in his side, “Come on, my doe,” he laughed, “I’ll be takin’ this ‘ere bitch upstairs. Y’all can stay down ‘ere an’ wait ‘round for me,” with that, he gripped Alastor’s antlers roughly and began to tug.  
That alone sent shivers down Alastor’s spine. He didn’t like that, not at all. He didn’t like people touching him in the first place, all because of this jackass.  
He had found out what the sting in his side had been. His father had drugged him with something, but he was starting to go numb. Not numb… that wasn’t the right way to describe it. Just… limp.  
He felt lame.  
His father was literally making sure that Alastor couldn’t resist.  
So, up the stairs they went, one damning step after another, each one getting harder and harder to traverse as Alastor lost strength. Speaking of, he didn’t have it in him to say anything, it was if he had been forced to silence.  
“Now you listen real nice and good, deer,” his father chuckled as he opened his door and roughly tossed Alastor to the floor. A loud thump echoed as he crashed, unable to move, “Imma gonna teach ya how to be a good little bitch for daddy.”  
What? There was no way that he already knew? He couldn’t have already figured him out, “What’s ya name, son?”  
Alastor refused to speak.  
“I asked what ya name was, I wood’na asked if I wan’ed ya to stay hushed up,” he gave Al a hard kick to the stomach, to which he instantly curled in on himself, “What’s ya name?”  
“Lu-Luci-”  
“I swear, you come up with a fake name and I’ll beat the shit outta you, boy,” he grabbed Alastor’s antlers again and raised his head to look him in the eyes, “Imma ask you ag’in boy, what’s ya name?”  
“Alastor.”  
“Alastor?”  
“Alastor.”  
“Say, what was ya mama’s name? And you be honest with me now, boy,”  
Damnit. “Angelica.”  
“Ya last name is Simmon, ain’t it?”  
Silence.  
“Ain’t it?”  
“Yes!” Alastor answered, under the ever harsh glare of his father.  
“Well now…” his father chewed slightly and then spit off to the side, chewing something… most likely tobacco, “The son who ate me to death… I got ‘im back. You killed me, you piece of chicken shit,” Alastor was kicked again, “And now I got you back. You’s all mine now, Al,”  
Alastor had to move, “Father, you were starving me, I didn’t have a choice,” he started, “I was hungry and I-”  
“I gave you a grape that day for being a good boy for me, you ungrateful shit!”  
“A single grape, father!”  
“You don’t call me that,” his father smacked him, “What did you used t’a call me?”  
“Papa?”  
“You’s gonna call me daddy o’ papa, ya hear me?”  
“Papa, please just leave me be. I won’t ever bother you again and we can go our separate ways, I-”  
“Aw, naw naw, I wan’ this. Ya know you alway used to love it, I reckon ya did,” Alastor was going to cry and nothing had truly even happened yet. He never thought that he’d ever see his father again… Never.  
Then he heard it. A small little clink. It took him a moment to realize and recognize the sound of a belt unbuckling.  
“No!” he cried. Not again… Not again, he couldn’t do this again… He began to tremble, unable to get away. He could scarcely move his fingers and toes, “Don’t! You stay away!”  
“What? Is you gonna make me? I reckon you ain’t!” his father answered.  
Alastor truly began to cry as he felt his own clothes begin to come off, “Papa, stop, please… Mama would have-”  
“You not got any ears, Al?” his father snarled, harshly gripping the deer ears, “I told ya I killed her, di’n I? I take no stock in ya mama’s wishes, now hush up and be a good boy for me!” Then, he felt it.  
Flaming hot, raging pain in his backside. He hadn’t even been prepared. He let out a scream and tried struggling but found it rather hard to move.  
“Damn Al, you’s gotten tighter since last time,” his father grunted, pushing into him as he began to take the figure beneath him.  
Alastor was sobbing before he knew it. He hadn’t cried like this in a long time. Wrenching sobs that wracked his back and caused him to cough on his own spit.  
He felt as his father pulled out, then pushed back in. Out, in.  
Out.  
In.  
Out.  
In.  
The tide rises,  
The tide falls.  
Poetry. That was it, that could help him dissociate. Block it out.  
‘Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me.’ Alastor started a poem in his head. He did love Emily Dickinson.  
“You feel so good, my boy… that’s a good boy, ain’t ya? You remember daddy’s-”  
“My life closed twice before it’s close.” Alastor cut him off.  
“Hey now, I won’t ‘ave you inn’eruptin’ me like ‘hat,” his father began to get considerably rougher with him and Alastor couldn’t help but let out a sob.  
It hurt so bad. He was being torn in two.  
“I heard a fly buzz -- when I died.”  
“Al!”  
“Papa please stop-”  
It lasted for what felt like two eternities and a half. He felt so full. He was spent, by two times already. His father however, had given him a bit more than that and Alastor felt disgusting.  
His father panted; sweat dripping off his forehead as he began his fifth round, pounding it out inside his victim…  
Alastor had almost settled into the feeling. He wasn’t protesting anymore… he just felt… broken. It was like he was still in the basement, like he had never gotten out; never died at all.  
The radio dials in his eyes were dull, dimly lit. His eyelids were half down and he was a broken rag doll in his father’s hold. His own victims would have felt pathetic if they had gotten the chance to see Alastor this way.  
So, he laid there and took his punishment. It was his first night in Hell and already… the punishment had begun.  
He wondered then, if eating the judge’s shoulder would have done anything to him. He figured not… He didn’t feel any different, but…  
He decided to snap his fingers anyway.  
With a crash and a thud, his father went flying into the back wall and Alastor could stand, though he opted to lay there stunned for a good moment. That had worked  
The deer struggled to his feet and looked at his father, hunching his back slightly as he drank in air.  
“What the fuck was that?” his father got to his feet, “You wanna challenge me, boy?”  
Alastor was dripping and in pain, but he tried a snap and that cleaned him off pretty nicely, “Papa, let me go and we’ll never see each other again, I promise.”  
“No boy. I ain’t ever gon’ let you go now,”  
Alastor snapped again and his father went down in a bundle of chains, “You mean to say that you wont ever touch me again?”  
“You and ya damn mama deserved death! You stupid kid! I’ll kill ye ag’in! Just like ya mama, that awful wretch! You’s just as bad!” his father yelled at him.  
Something broke in Alastor when his father said that, “Don’t you… ever talk about mama again.”  
“She was a skank and you a-”  
Alastor gave his father a harsh kick to the ribs as he stopped thinking, “You know what? I think… That you need to shut that mouth, before I shut it for you,” Alastor snarled, lifting his father up by his hair to let him see his grin.  
The deer snapped again and a red dress shirt and upsidedown cross tie formed onto his body. Long pants and a nice red tailcoat to go with it, plus a monocle.  
“You know what I think? I think… this is something that people need to hear. They need to hear about how you suffered at the hands of the son you hurt for so long.”  
“Ya’d never do that to me,”  
“Wouldn’t I?”  
Another snap and a broadcasting station appeared before their eyes, compact in this room.  
Alastor grinned as he stopped all radio waves and connected them, “Greetings!” he exclaimed, “My name is Alastor and this will be the first addition to this new eppisodic adventure! Today, we have a demon here as our special guest! Introduce yourself, Michal!”  
“Alastor, you son of a bitch.”  
“Well that was very uneeded, but thank you for sharing! Now ladies and gentlemen! Put on your smiles, for you are simply never fully dressed without one!”  
It was at that point that Michal knew he’d fucked up, “Al, come on, ya can’t do this t’a me!”  
“Can’t I?” his son grinned and he gulped.  
Alastor’s smile had gone crazed and the radio dials twisted and lit up.  
“Come now, my dear… Show me a smile…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter, I don’t know if I want it to be either the show (which would be pretty gory) or if I want to skip over it. I’ll figure it out, but I’d love for your opinions!


	3. This is for all that you put me through, you piece of shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some torture in it. Nothing overly graphic, but trigger warning here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long, I wasn’t exactly sure how to write this chapter, but I think I figured it out!

He shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was but…  
He couldn’t help it if those screams were filling him with this sense of euphoria. If his papa wanted him to moan, this was the way to get him to do it. The sweet sound of his father’s screams filling the air. 

“Alastor. Stop, you can’t keep doing this,”  
“I told you to smile, didn’t I?” the torturer answered, “Give me a smile. We’re starting over, you remember what to do I trust? Count to ten and each time you mess up the number, we start over again.”  
“Alastor stop.”  
“Ready?” 

One crack snapped and the lash drew more blood from his father’s already mauled chest.  
“I don’t hear any counting…”  
“I didn’t count.”  
“Count to ten and each time you mess up the number, we start over again.”  
Lash.  
“What was that?”  
His father hissed in pain and small sob fell from his throat, “I didn’t say anything.”  
“Count to ten and each time you mess up the number, we start over again.”  
Lash.  
“Anything?”  
“No.”  
“Count to ten and each time you mess up the number, we start over again.”  
Those words were driving his father mad and he knew it. He felt mad himself and let him be the one to tell you, it was an amazing feeling. It was his version of drugs, getting him high and excited.

Another lash.  
His father muttered something.  
“Sorry?”  
“One.” his father choked out, sniffling softly.  
“That’s better…”  
Lash.  
“Two.”  
Lash!  
“Three,”  
Lash!  
“Four…”  
Lash!  
A chuckle.  
“Five.”  
Lash!  
Another chuckle.  
“Seven.”  
Lash!  
A louder chuckle.  
“Eight.”  
Lash!  
A laugh! A laugh of pure entertainment.  
“Nine.”  
Lash!  
A laugh of pure happiness. Insanity. Entertainment. Enjoyment. Euphoriaamusmentfunindulgencejoygratificationpleasuresatisfactionthrill!  
“Ten.”

Alastor calmed down from his fit of laughter, “You made it,”  
“I did…”  
“To nine.”  
“To ten…”  
“You skipped six.”  
His father went pale.  
“Count to ten and each time you mess up the number, we start over again.”  
The longer this continued, the harder Alastor found himself laughing and he just couldn’t help it. 

Grotesque sounds filled the room and flood and poured out of every radio in Hell.  
Then, Alastor pulled his father close and put a blade to his throat. His father was in tears, sniffling, “Alastor, stop this… I’ll be good to you from now on, I’ll be better… You and I can start over… Just please…” he began crying.  
Alastor couldn’t hear him. There was blood pumping in his ears and his headache screamed words that his father had said to him before at him and he couldn’t help but lean in to blow lightly on his papa’s ear before hissing as whisper into it, “This is for all that you put me through, you piece of shit.”

Alastor left the bar feeling accomplished, feeling like everything was whole again and that he could live in peace now that he didn’t have to worry about his father, given that he left his father’s body in that room, cold and unmoving.  
He’d tortured and killed a few others who had come to see as well, also on air.

“Who is that?” someone whispered, “I’ve never seen him.”  
It was only when Alastor spoke that people began to flee, some trying to sneak away, others running.  
They all said the same thing:  
“It’s the Radio Demon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long of a chapter as normal but, hey, it worked-  
> I think it shows just how fast he snapped just how quickly it all occurred in his mind.   
> Adds to the insanity.  
> That may just also be me trying to justify a short chapter to myself but, THATS NOT IMPORTANT-

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, fuck Al's dad. He's an ass.


End file.
